The Evil That Mortals Do
by ekrolo2
Summary: I am looking at things from a far higher perspective than you. I observe this world, this universe, the truth of all things. And I have realized mortals must be destroyed. Out of all which the gods have made, mortals are their sole failure. To create a utopia, I must remove mortals in the place of Gods who refuse to admit their mistake! Goku Black One-Shots!
1. Correcting A Mistake

To instantly destroy a world was a trivial thing for a being of his power. With a simple wave of his hand, he could unleash a single attack without enough force to split the whole planet asunder, leaving nothing but debris and fire in the cold void of space. The mortals of this world and every world he'd visited prior and every world he will visit after certainly deserve such a fate.

The world itself didn't.

Indeed, his current hunting ground, a planet called Earth from the Northern Quadrant, was already a wounded thing. It's sentient species, humanity, ensured that when they performed experiments on their own kind, creating almost unstoppable engines of destruction that annihilated everything in their path for decades. If it wasn't for the meddlesome Saiyan attacking him at every turn, they would most certainly be his main adversaries at this moment.

Such was the case with every sentient mortal species he'd encountered thus far. All of them were given the gift of knowledge, that creative spark enabling them to rise from the primordial muck and attain a true understanding of themselves and their surroundings. A blessing which, when used responsibly, would elevate these selected species to a higher level.

Instead, they simply used it to find new ways to destroy one another in an endless cycle of self-destruction. The city he walked through, or rather the ruins of one, stood as a fine example of this. The buildings created with advanced machinery and through centuries of learning and study stood broken, if they stood at all. Whatever paint was used to give them a more appealing look vanished long ago, leaving nothing but massive chunks of grey and black rock as the city's sole remnants.

Vehicles of every sort littered the empty street ahead of him, more examples of how humanity was no different from every other horrible child of the Gods. If they weren't, the pathetic state of what was once amongst their greatest places of living wouldn't be in this state.

But even amongst the wreckage, he spotted things that validated his method of controlled cleansing instead of pure annihilation. With ilk of mankind gone from this place, nature was reclaiming what belonged to it. Through the cracks of concrete and steel, flowers and other greenery bloomed, creating patches of color and life in the drab dreariness of the overall surroundings. From the corner of his eye, he noticed packs of animals hunting together, something resembling a family unit if the two larger ones and the several smaller children following them were any indication. The four-legged hounds paid no attention to him as they pursued another, much smaller animal through the city.

He bore no ill will to these lesser creatures, they were lead by animal instincts. Simple creatures sometimes capable of more complex thought and emotion but overall simple still. They didn't truly possess the gift of sentience and thus couldn't be judged as harshly as their dominant counterparts, humans. He could no more blame them for their actions than an exploding volcano or a tsunami, they simply did what they did.

His brief examination of the pack was quickly cut short when the ground beneath one of the pups exploded into a million pieces, sending fire, rock and ash blasting into the air. Such attacks had no effect on him, if the Saiyan couldn't hurt him such conventional traps and weaponry certainly wouldn't. With a flick of his hand, he blasted the wind away and narrowed his eyes at the remnants of the pack.

The older ones lived still, horribly mutilated as they were from the mine. Their children were not so lucky, their tiny bodies didn't survive the blast, all that was left of them were strands of bloody flesh. Hearing the survivors whines of misery prompted him to end their suffering with a quick energy wave, vaporizing them and their children to a place where mankind couldn't hurt them anymore.

Bullets were the next attack to come, but not from many directions as they usually did. No, this was a lone gunman firing down on him from one of the few buildings still left standing. He ignored the metal projectiles, letting them harmlessly smash against his skin and clothes as he took off into the air towards the shooter. A black stream of energy surrounded him and left a plane like trail in the sky as he quickly closed the distance between himself and his would-be assassin.

To his surprise, he found an older man wielding the gun trained at him this time around. Usually, the younger ones were responsible for setting up tracks or attacking him. Usually sporting a Capsule Corp jacket of some description as a rallying symbol of sorts, no doubt from a desire to mimic their so-called Saiyan savior. This old man with his balding head, grey mustache, and haunted expression was no different. Perhaps a bit more fanatical in his devotion.

For as he ignored the hail of bullets fired at him, he noticed several pictures placed near his firing position, some of him with his mortal family while others of Trunks and him at some kind of Earthling celebration. No doubt one made in honor of Trunks killing the mechanical monstrosities spawned by one of Earth's "geniuses".

With a swift motion of his hand, he snatched the rifle out of the old human's hand and promptly smashed it against a nearby wall. The elder didn't even know he was being choked until he found himself levitated off the ground with a firm grip placed tightly around his aging neck.

This was the other reason he chose a more personal way of elimination. To see just how low the mortals would sink when their time of reckoning was at hand. In many of their cultures, elders such as these were revered for their tempered minds and experience, yet this one fought with the same fervour and brutality as the younger examples of his kind. Doing whatever it took to perpetuate his own, worthless existence to continue his species cycle of violence. If he was smart, he'd know he deserved what was about to happen to him.

Grabbing the man by the head with his other hand, he used his telepathic abilities to pry into the man's mind. To his surprise, the man wasn't part of Trunks' little resistance force, just a man inspired by it. His obsession with the Saiyan became clear, Trunks saved him from the so-called Androids just when one of them was about to blow his brains out with one of their Earthling firearms.

He thought of Trunks as a hero. A pretty name for just another being who's caused or escalated more senseless conflict elsewhere to resolve his own.

Upon finding the exact locations of the various mines and traps positioned around the place, the man's head was crushed with a deliberately slow movement of the fingers digging into his bones and flesh. His scream echoed throughout the empty building but was quickly silenced when there was nothing left of his skull to scream from.

The display brought a smile to his face.

He was ready to leave when he spotted a small pot containing a flower nearby, one of the few things the old man had left of his deceased wife if his memories rung true. Taking the pot with him, he levitated over the city and with his free hand, telekinetically forced the various explosives made to harm him out of their hiding spots and flung them into the ground. With another loud boom, the devices all smashed into one another and exploded, ensuring the old man's machinations wouldn't cause any more damage from beyond the grave.

He landed at the spot where the first trap killed the family of hounds and blasted a small hole in the ground with a kiai. With care, he took the flower out of the pot and put it in the ground where it could grow free from the interference of mortals. This part of the world was now cleared, the old man was the only one left for a great many miles. But there was more work to do, more humans to eliminate before the Gods mistake was corrected on this world too.

No one was going to stop him from accomplishing this, and with the power of Son Goku's body at his disposal, he doubted anyone really could.

* * *

 **And there you have it! A little closer look into the motivations/psyche of Goku Black! This can honestly take place anywhere in the Super timeline but for fans of my Resurrection F remake, The Vicious Gods Wrath, don't be surprised if this ends up being in-continuity with that too at some point ;)**


	2. Civilized People

The sounds of gunfire rang for miles in the distance, echoing through another in an ever growing list of demolished cities littering the surface of planet Earth. Another collection of ruined gray buildings and vehicles lying smashed on top of or right next to one another. The places where their windows used to be leading into equally demolished hallways or homes long since abandoned.

To his surprise, however, none of these gunshots are meant for him as they usually are. They aren't even close by, relatively speaking. If his instincts were right, and they always were, from their frequency and sources of origin, they were the result of humans fighting humans.

Always intrigued by the cause of such in-fighting, one of the many reasons for why he despises mortals so, he decided to descend to ground level so as not to disturb them. Using his superior speed with a little bit of stealth for once, he traversed the vast, aforementioned hallways of the abandoned structures while the gunfire continues to reverberate through them.

He caught glimpses of lives once spent in these places. Front doors decorated with various things meant to distinguish them from the rest, rooms where humans once sat down and ate, others where children spent their days and nights judging by the toys he tramples on. The mark of a "civilized" society here and on many other worlds, the appearance of peaceful routine.

Nothing but a facade as far as he was concerned. A series of constantly evolving masks and lies to make mortals believe they're improving, to make them think they're rising above their base natures. But he knew otherwise, he knew better. Whenever these facades become too inconvenient for them to uphold, they all show their true faces.

As he approached the source of the gunfire, now accompanied by the shouts of men and one woman, he knew this would simply be another example of this.

He slowed his approach, taking extra care to make sure they could neither see or hear him, opting to use a nearby pillar as cover. Peeking over it, he noticed several humans in a standoff. Three men, all seemingly on the same side pointing their guns at a duo hiding behind a crashed vehicle situated down in the lobby for some reason. One a grown human of comparable age to his opponents with his companion considerably younger, one of their teenagers he guessed.

"Look!" The man covering behind the counter proclaimed. "I'm sorry we stole from you! But our sisters need this medicine! They won't survive another week without it!"

"And you think our people will?!" One of the three opposing them barked back, cocking his rifle-type firearm, a shotgun he thought, in their direction. "We've got sick people to take care of too! You think our kids are gonna get better just because you're sorry for stealing their meds?!"

And so it went for a little while longer with both sides trying to rationalize how their needs were far greater than those of the other. What little attempt at diplomacy faltered quickly, just as he knew it would. Pleas of understanding were replaced with more threats which were replaced by mutual cursing until it all culminated into the logical conclusion for any mortal being once the facade became too much of a hindrance to keep up: violence.

The younger of the two was the first to spring into action, the one he immediately noticed was constantly twitching in cover, ready and eager to fight in comparison to his companion. He peaked over their cover and fired his gun wildly at the trio with his older compatriot joining him soon after. A third of the opposing trio fell immediately, his torso and head littered with the projectiles, leaving the corpse in a mess of blood. Another of them was injured but not killed with their leader emerging unscathed.

They darted from cover to cover, both trying to thin out the ranks of the other. The injured one from the stolen party failed to compensate for his wounded shoulder, it made his entire limb shake and threw his aim off. An advantage used by the younger, more violent of the thieves to put him down as well.

His leader witnessed his companion fall and with an animalistic roar went on the offensive. The boy, failing to reload his weapon, was left vulnerable and died as the shotgun blasted him in the chest. Knocking him to the ground, unmoving. In their mutual, self-perceived righteous fits of rage, they devolved fully into barbarians. Using their previously advanced technology as mere clubs to smash one another with.

When those either failed or were discarded, they grabbed rocks and used them to bash away at one another. Ultimately, they devolved into using their fists to punch and claw at their opponents, growling like the monstrous savages they all were deep down with "civilizations" illusion no longer there to keep them in check. Upon transforming the thief leader's face into a mess of gnarled flesh and bones with his bare hands, the battle is concluded.

And with it, another aspect of mortal behavior ended up as the truth once more.

Seeing little point in hiding anymore, he levitated quietly from the upper floor and landed behind the leader as he kneeled on the floor, panting over the corpse of the thief. Intentionally, he let his footsteps grow louder and louder. When the leader of the trio snapped his head to look at him, the look of stone-faced horror on his face made him smirk.

Taking hold of his head, he invaded the man's mind, revealing all the secrets of their little group, its hideout, the layout of it, the guards, and most importantly, the man's primal joy as he destroyed the thief. With a casual flick of his wrist, he made the man's head and neck snap to an unnatural position, killing him instantly.

He prepared to leave when he noticed a coughed gasp for air nearby, prompting him to cast one more look at the younger thief. Bleeding on the ground from his chest wound and choking on the liquid gushing out of his mouth, he pointed towards the bag containing the stolen medicine. A plea for help.

To the young man's dismay, he blasted the bag into nothingness and turning whatever contents it had within to dust. With a pleased smirk still gracing his features, he approached the teenager and knelt next to him, allowing his hand to hover mere inches from his face.

"Don't worry," He told him in a quiet, unsympathetic voice at odds with his smirk. "I'll end them quickly. It will be a far kinder fate than whatever disease they have or," His smirk grows into a full grin while the boy's terrified look increases along with it. "What someone else will do if they find them."

* * *

 **A bit too dark? Even for Goku Black? Ehh, I don't know. This guys been to places and likely seen things so... yeah... Anywho, I didn't expect to make this more than a one shot but if I ever feel like pointing out humanity kind of sucks, I'll be sure to use this as a venting method :P**


	3. The True Face of Man

**A/N:** So, you probably noticed how I intentionally avoided having Black, who's true identity was unknown when I wrote the last two one-shots, call himself... Anything. His real name was up until recently unknown to all so I avoided making one for him. Black is a name other characters use for him but he never calls himself that or refer to himself as Goku. He always says "Son Goku's body!". But now that we all know he's Zamasu, I will have him refer to himself as such. Just putting this out there to explain this slight shift in my writing.

* * *

CRACK!

With that sound of finality coming from the snapped neck of the final perimeter guard, Zamasu successfully eliminated all outer 'resistance' towards the secret human base. If one could call a dozen lowly, fragile Earthling's resistance. Without even the most rudimentary of Ki related abilities, they fell just as easily as any other fighter of this world. Well, almost any other fighter, but even Trunks was far from a threat Super Saiyan abilities or not.

Usually, he would not think twice about simply firing a blast into the subway station housing more of these mortals, cleansing this fractured planet of their fifth through the cleansing power of fire. But the same mind which leads him to this place put him in something of an experimental mood that day.

The rush of pleasure the human felt as he killed one of his own was not uncommon in mortals. It was just one of the many reasons why they deserved his punishment. But something in Zamasu's mind made him more curious on this particular feeling. Specifically the question of how far would they go?

Remembering the allotted time each one of these guards was tasked with radioing into the main settlement, Zamasu decided to move quickly towards it. With a quiet grace, he moved slowly but quickly across the air and down to another in a seemingly endless stream of delicate streets comprising every city on the Earth.

A bleak and sad sight to be sure, but once nature took hold, one that would gradually fade in favor of something far more beautiful. Keenly aware of his surrounding thanks to the dead man's assimilated information, Zamasu knew where every trap, every warning system for intruders and most importantly, where every guard was.

Just as with the outer guards, Zamasu killed the ones acting as a sort of final defense before the main settlement, leaving him entirely free to do with it what he wanted with it and everyone inside.

A faint light accompanied by the sounds of people talking served as his beacons towards the base. With a calm purpose, he casually walked down another dilapidated hallway towards one of the side entrances. Shielding himself with a nearby pillar, Zamasu decided to wait there, to observe and listen to the people inside the settlement before they picked up on the radio silence from above.

A series of huts of various types of cloth were erected all over the main station, serving as meager homes in this vast, dead halls. Placed in a circular formation, they all surrounded a single, large fire in the center, fires which a great many of them almost obsessively tried to stay as close to as possible.

Yet, a select few spots were free of these tents and fires, instead used for what he guessed were hospitals or weapons stations given the equipment positioned there.

All of them were clad in tattered clothing, all of them were visibly and thanks to the Saiyan scenes of Son Goku's body, very obviously filthy.

Deciding to inspect them through one more avenue, Zamasu opted to listen. He could hear the sounds of men cleaning their guns, of women taking care of their species sick and elderly, of children trying to block out their imminent deaths with fantasies.

He heard little in the way of complaining or arguments, instead, it seemed as though they were all in this together. Helping one another to survive in this pitiful state of their existences.

We'll see how long that lasts, Zamasu thought with a cold smirk just ahead of one man, amongst the last of their guards, spoke to another of an urgent matter. How no one from above or from the inner perimeter was reporting in.

With his time spent, Zamasu made his move.

He appeared behind this messenger of doom, taking a moment to relish in the faces of shocking realization on his comrade's faces before the man's head found itself within Zamasu's grasp. With just a bit of pressure, it collapsed under his fingers.

Tossing the man's remains by the way side, Zamasu smirked at his shocked companions and allowed one of them to fire his weapon. A fruitless effort, just as all of them were but it did its job: it sent everyone into a panic.

"Oh my God!"

"He's here!"

"Run! Get the women and kids to safety!"

And so the screams went on and on following the death of the gun fires echoing noise. All of them leaped to their feet, most trying to run for the myriad of entrances and escape routes while a handful left opted to remain and fight.

Though he could not actually separate himself into multiple bodies, Zamasu had something else which would create the illusion that he could. Using his vast speed, he darted constantly and instantaneously from over a dozen spots at once so quickly, his after images didn't even have a chance to fade or even flicker before his actual self-appeared to keep them going.

"Humans," His distorted voice spoke to them all as he kept on moving from spot to spot. "Return to the center of your camp now and you may survive."

"Like hell, we will-" One of the guards tried to protest, dramatically and heroically, or so he thought. Firing a pair of simple eye beams at him in-between movements, Zamasu shredded his body into a bloody mess and got his message across perfectly.

With great reluctance in their movements and an ever present, crushing look of horror on their faces, the people of this settlement covered back into the center of the station and Zamasu's... clones, slowly walked towards them, only stopping when they were all huddled next to one another.

Halting his little display of fake clones, Zamasu stood at the forefront of the group and with a smirk, nodded approvingly at how easily and quickly they chose to listen to him.

"Does anyone by chance have a handkerchief?" He asked politely, showing them the bloody hand with which he crushed the human's skull. When no one approached, he asked again. "Come now, there's no reason we can't be civilized here, all I'm asking for us something to wash this off."

Somewhere in this shuffle, a woman forcefully grabbed some cloth from a child's hand and walked over him, silently offering it.

"Thank you," He smiled and bowed slightly, letting her walk back into the group while he went about cleaning his bloody appendage. Already they were turning on one another and that was him being nice, what would they be willing to do when the real business started?

"Humans," He discarded the cloth, letting his voice echo through the empty hallways. "You've no doubt heard or seen of my exploits and you must assuredly, and incorrectly, see me as a monster? Correct?"

They said nothing.

"Well, I would like to prove differently," He placed his hands behind his back, casually pacing around them as he examined various bits and pieces scattered around the place. "To show you that what I do is most assuredly in service to a greater purpose, one you may or may not understand when our business is concluded."

Spotting what Earthling's referred to as a crowbar, Zamasu picked it off the crate and examined the instrument closely. With its two prongs on the end and its metallic surface, he had no doubt one human could do a great deal of damage to another with it, with the right motivation, of course.

"You there," He addressed the woman from earlier. "Catch."

He flung the crowbar in her direction, watching as she clumsily snatched it out of the air and stared at it as though it would chew through her skin somehow.

"The child from whom you stole the cloth," He smiled. "Kill him and anyone who would stand in your way."

"You sick bastard!" Another man, this one much older than the others, perhaps the child's grandfather judging by how quick he was to cover the frightened boy up spoke. "You won't get away with this, you won't-"

With a simple blink of his eye's, Zamasu released a small blast which sent the man hurtling wildly through the air and right into a nearby wall, the sound of his screaming was drowned out only by the loud thud of which the back of his head hit the wall, silencing him forever.

"Anyone who dares interfere with any of my demands will suffer the same," He told them matter of factly as they stared at the old man's corpse. "If you value your lives, you'll stay put."

And for the next hour as his demands continued, growing ever more vicious and horrifying, they did. What little thoughts of heroism or fake selflessness quickly vanished as the true faces of these once friendly people came bubbling to the surface.

They did what all mortals do when their lives are at risk: they turned on one another. When he told the woman to bash the child to death, she did so without question or resistance from the others. That satisfactory gleam was ever present in her eyes, the gleam which proved just how vile and horrible they all were deep down.

Nothing more than savage beasts all willingly to gleefully find and use any number of creative ways to slaughter one another or to selfishly save themselves. Deep down, they were all the same regardless of species or planet or upbringing.

Children killed adults, men brutalized women, women slaughtered the sick and elderly, wearing one another down as they all tried to save their own hides, even if it meant burying friends or family. And Zamasu could see from the gleam in their eyes that they all loved it, even if they tried their best to hide it with fake disgust or anger.

Ultimately, only two were left, teenagers by the looks of them and family at that one. One a scruffy looking boy and another, a weeping girl trying her best to bury the brutal reality of her vile species away through tears and closed eyes.

In the mass of bodies lying around them, Zamasu noticed a pistol from one of the guards and with a smirk, he telepathically hovered it off the ground and made it hover towards them.

"Girl," He called out to her, patiently waiting as she removed her red, puffy eyes from her brother's chest. "Take it."

Though she didn't burst out into another fit of crying, the widening of her eyes and the tears welling in them were proof enough that she knew what was about to happen. The look of abject horror on her brother's face spoke more volumes of their understanding than any words could

Shakily and reluctantly, she took the firearm into her hands. "Good, now shoot him with it."

She opened her mouth to protest then quickly shut it, most likely forgetting to what happened to the first people who voiced their... issues with his display. Not even her brother said anything, instead, he slowly pulled away from her as every fiber of his being shook in terror.

The girl turned to face him, still lazily holding the firearm in her shaky hands. For a bit of added incentive, Zamasu appeared next to her and placed the palm of his hand mere inches away from the side of her skull, slowly and deliberately, he charged a small ball of ki just inches away but close enough to let her what would happen should she try to defy him.

It was her or him.

Laboriously, she lifted the weapon towards her now also crying sibling just a few feet away. Once again, without saying a word, Zamasu could see the conversation happening between the two of them just from the looks on their faces. With each passing moment, her hands shook more and more, the last vestiges of 'civilization' trying to keep at bay what she, her brother and Zamasu knew she was.

Nudging the ball just an inch closer, these last shreds of restraint blasted through her hesitation and with a firm grip, she fired the gun. Wordlessly, her sibling hit the ground on his back, either dead or too shocked to say anything.

"Very good," Zamasu complemented her with a small pat on the back. "You're free to go."

And with that, he, as far as she knew anyway, left the room. Hiding behind a nearby pillar, he closely observed the look on her face as she realized that by murdering her own kin, she secured her own life.

When the smile slowly but surely crept on her face, Zamasu's conviction in the righteousness of his cause was strengthened to even greater heights. The joy he felt when he vaporized her out of existence, though, was slightly more satisfying.


	4. The Folly of Zamasu

**A/N: This is a small rewrite of the scene from Dragon Ball Super Episode 59 in which Goku, with the assistance of Beerus, Whis, and Kaioshin, stops Gowasu's death from his rogue apprentice, Zamasu.**

* * *

"I thought you had seen the error of your ways!"

Gowasu's words echo through Zamasu's mind, revealing all of the mixed and unsurprising emotions from this revelation he expected to hear if his plan came apart. The shock from realizing how all his attempts to steer Zamasu away from the true path have failed. The self-righteous indignation and anger from being disobeyed by his pupil for not conforming to his flawed world view.

Without looking at him, Zamasu can clearly feel all of this and so much more just from hearing these few words. None of them particularly surprise him, Gowasu had proven himself an obstacle in the path to true justice, one which needed to fall if a utopia free human evil was to become a reality. Though he didn't expect Gowasu to survive this, much less through the bizarre circumstances he actually did, Zamasu knew full well this reaction would come to pass if he somehow lived.

A foregone conclusion which steeled him for what had to be done, and which made the momentary regret he felt when he recognized the genuine, heartbreaking disappointment in Gowasu's words.

But as the humans he planned to stamp out, this feeling died just as quickly and suddenly as it came. It had no place for him on his path of justice.

"Zamasu!" His master urged him to speak. He obliged him.

"Seen the error of my ways?" Zamasu met his former master's gaze, echoing his statement from before with almost a chuckle. "I simply obey the justice of the gods!" His amusement at the thought of submitting to Gowasu and the other Gods abhorrent logic morphed into anger. "The justice that says to vanquish all evil!"

"Zamasu!" Gowasu yelled again, the indignation even clearer that time. The Kaioshin of Universe Seven merely gasped, raising Zamasu's fiery resolve that much more. Of course, a simple worm-like him with nothing resembling a spine would react in that way, the true utopia had no place for worthless deities who do nothing with their power to right the wrongs of humans.

But he is paltry to the two standing next to him, Beerus and Whis. The finest examples of deities wasting their power for nothing. They didn't react to his statement or to the steely gaze he sent their way, not that Zamasu expected them two. For even though all the Gods of Destruction and their attendants were as loathsome to Zamasu as the Kai's tied to them, Beerus and Whis were easily the worst. Petty fools who spent their time obsessing over food of all things, partaking in the rituals of the despicable humans whenever possible and even employing them to do their allotted tasks.

He never liked either of them or their closest counterparts, Champa and Vados of Universe Six. But they had sinned more, by giving mortals, Saiyan's no less, a brutal warrior race embodying all the worst humanity had to offer, the power of the gods themselves.

One of which stood next to them, Son Goku, his worst enemy and in a shocking twist, the man who helped him most in realizing his true feelings for humans. The man most to thank for his mission finally starting, and the one who would help him carry it out.

 _But how did you all know this?_ Zamasu wondered as he realized how accurately they managed to predict most of his upcoming plans, save for one detail. "Still, I'm impressed you managed to work out my plan just from the fact I tried to murder Gowasu."

"It was easy!" Son Goku, adorned with a look that could kill a man finally spoke up. "We went to the future and saw it!"

"T-the future?!" Zamasu stammered out and promptly cursed himself for being caught off guard by the approaching Saiyan. Composing himself, he focused his ki into the palm of his hand, seeing an opportunity to strike Goku down. If he could not have his body, then perhaps their idea of a copy would simply have to suffice.

"Yeah. Because of you guys, the cities were wrecked, and tons of people died!"

Once more, Son Goku managed to catch Zamasu off-guard and once more, he found the Saiyan's presence a mixed blessing. Exposing him to Gowasu and putting him in the eye sights of Beerus, the most troublesome of all the Gods of Destruction, but also showing him that his utopia was already coming to pass.

"I see," Zamasu couldn't help but keep the satisfaction out of his voice. "I had realized my dream then," The ki surrounding his extended hand surged with greater power. "All the more reason I cannot fall here!"

Springing into action, Zamasu raised his ki blade overhead with the intent of cutting the Saiyan down. Were he clad in the golden power of his Super Saiyan state, he might've stood a chance, but the clumsy attempt to ready himself for battle only confirms he'd sorely underestimated Zamasu's resolve.

 _It seems a copy will have to suffice after all-_

Before the blade could meet flesh, a horrible and paralyzing jolt of pain ran through Zamasu's whole arm, the reason for it only revealed himself a tenth of a second later when he appeared between himself and Son Goku, catching the Kai's hand and crushing the ki surging over it.

"Don't get cocky," Beerus' voice caused something... animal inside Zamasu's mind to ring in alarm. An almost primordial fear of being at the mercy of a being such as the God of Destruction. A fear which almost overtook him, but the Kai would not be deterred. Forcing this humiliating feeling back where it belong with through sheer force of will, Zamasu met the eye's of Beerus unflinchingly and his lips curled into a disgusted grimace at the sight of this most sinful of deities.

"Destruction!"

A momentary pulse of energy reverberated through Beerus' entire body before seeping into Zamasu's body. The feeling came so suddenly and so overwhelmingly, like ten thousand suns exploding for a millionth of a second then vanishing just as quickly, that Zamasu thought he had surely imagined it. That it simply couldn't exist.

When the pain began, he knew it was very much real.

His dominant hand with which he tried to strike down Gowasu and Son Goku with began to crumble into ash, aging over the span of entire eons in a matter of moments. Soon, the rest of the horrifying technique took hold over the rest of Zamasu's body. Killing his muscles, withering his bones to ash and crippling all of his senses.

But as he kneeled to the floor, gasping for air and shaking at the doorstep of death, Zamasu's eyes met those of the unflinching Beerus. The worst god of them all. A being with all the power to make true change happen, wasting it on food and for empowering humans simply for the thrill of fighting them. In that moment, a last surge of willpower fought through the pain and the tendrils of death slowly choking the life almost literally out of him.

"Worthless... creature..." Zamasu cursed him, his voice wheezy and faint. "You dare... look at me... with disgust...? You... who waste your... godly gifts... on nothing? You... who believe and stand... for nothing... but your own... petty whims?!"

He didn't expect Beerus to answer him, to defend himself or his actions. Merely to stand there and observe him with stoic and haughty superiority. Zamasu certainly didn't expect him for him to suddenly burst out into a hearty laugh.

"Stand for something?!" He echoed Zamasu's words, then laughed even harder, wiping tears of genuine amusement from his eyes. "I am a God you fool! Why would I ever need or want to stand for anything?!"

The last shreds of Zamasu's body and strength crumbled and so did he onto the floor, feeling all of his great and much-beloved fighting strength vanish into the same dust as the rest of him soon will be.

"A God standing for something..." Beerus knelt to him, allowing Zamasu to spend the last few moments of existence watching the deplorable creature's amused smile. "What a human concept!"


	5. Mortal Flaw

As he casually walked through the cracked streets lined with remains of vehicles and knocked over buildings comprising the only thing one could mistake as cities on the rapidly depopulating planet Earth, a familiar scent welcomed Zamasu's Saiyan enhanced nostrils. The stench of old worn leather, of the powder fueling the projectile weaponry favored by the inhabitants, and a distinctly invasive odor around their armpits whenever they meet him in battle.

Even more so than usual, Zamasu couldn't help but grin at the thought as he continued his stroll towards the willful rats preparing to chew on his heels for the umpteenth time. Human efforts at resisting justice always amused him, but his mirth wasn't entirely aimed at them, but at his old master as well.

Barely taking note of the dispersing stench of the humans trying to *ambush* him, Zamasu remembered one virtue of humanity Gowasu attempted to use in defense of them. Their ingenuity, their ability to create something new, to improve on what already is or to take something terrible and use it as a device for good. Trying to find a correlation between this praise of them and humanity's tactics thus far spurns a hearty chuckle out of Zamasu.

For every effort from the humans to deny the God's justice was always the same here. They would disperse through their vast, multi-story buildings and lie in wait, trying to attack him with tiny metal projectiles or large explosive ones. Trunks, always claiming that this would be the day they would defeat him and secure the perpetuity of their loathsome existence, would swoop in, put up a mediocre fight and when it all inevitably fell apart, they throw their smoke or gas bombs and scurry off like the rats they are, always fewer and always utterly defeated.

Yet even now, as their stench grew and he could make out the distant thumping of boots against rock and the clicking and clanking of their weaponry, they proved his master wrong and Zamasu right once more. For even now, after dozens of failed encounters, he could see nothing new in their tactics or strategies, now of their lauded ingenuity, more of something approximating an entire species banging their head against the wall, thinking the next blow will finally bring it down when in actuality the effort is killing them.

An effort which could achieve a much swifter resolution if he could sense their ki, but Goku's body was not so forthright as to simply let him gain full access to it... yet. But the Saiyan's heightened senses have sufficed well enough as a means of hunting the humans down.

The barrage exploded instantaneously, bringing life back to a hollow and silent city through the chorus of metal firing from metal and slicing through the air towards its target. From dozens of windows, spread across nearly as many buildings, yellow flashes of light added some color to their dour surroundings, almost beautiful in their mechanical rhythm.

Zamasu simply stood there, letting the bullets smash against him and fail to achieve their intended goal, as they always did. Soon, their larger, more explosive counterparts joined the fray, blasting away at him with spurts of fire and pesky but harmless smoke clouds. Always the second response when the first one failed. Once all or most of these initial attackers die, response three will come crashing out of the sky bathed in golden light, his sword and self-righteous heroics so trite they could match his fighting methods ready for another failure.

For all this repetition proved as valid evidence against Gowasu's faulty teachings, something inside Zamasu stirred whenever battle erupted all around him, a silent conflict in the back of his mind. An almost ingrained wanting for an... originality of sorts. Anything, to break a troublesome feeling of ennui festering somewhere inside him he could keep at bay for any other time besides in battle, even for woefully one-sided ones such as these.

From the moment he cut down Goku and his family to his myriad of battles with the other Kai's to his present mission of creating utopia, the feeling subtly but profoundly grew stronger, urging him to find new challenges to satiate it. Was the power of the strongest and most loathsome of humans he now inhabited the cause? Could it be so built so intently for combat that even another inhabiting it could become subconsciously annoyed at the lack of a proper battle? The longing for a good fight to test it in constantly new and interesting ways? Was this the reason he let Trunks go, as little of a true challenge as he was and not merely to gain more access to Goku's strength even at a snails pace?

Not for the first time, a more reasoning part of himself urged to stop this cycle of behavior, to fight against whatever Saiyan poison slipped into his thinking, but the alternative was so tantalizing... He almost decided to listen, opening and closing the palms of his hands over and over to simply spring into action and cut a swift and bloody swath through the humans, killing them with blasts before their heads even hit the ground. His hands wouldn't listen, the idea of making it even... easier... unnerved him.

He decided to spice up this to this tiresome back and forth some other way, even if his enemies couldn't. Zamasu mentally focused on the hundreds of bullets at his feet and with a deliberate watery motion of his hands upward, sprung them back to life as a wave of metal reaching several stories into the sky. With a sweeping motion and Goku's keen sense of smell at hand, Zamasu prompted the wave into the buildings where the Resistance positioned itself, devouring them just as a wave of water from a great flood would.

The thumping of boots and the nervous stench of armpits grew greater once more to accompany the fleeing humans lucky enough to survive after the bullet wave couldn't go on anymore. To no one's surprise, they another tired strategy of flinging flash and smoke bombs at him to mask their escape. Usually, Zamasu would simply sweep it all aside, but the chance to spice up another trite encounter compels him to let the cloud remain, throwing off their scents somewhat and making the effort of picking them off marginally more interesting.

As expected, he couldn't kill one or two more of them before an all too familiar crackling noise resounded from above and a golden light accompanying it illuminating the gray surroundings with more color than any gun could hope to. Grinning at the rapidly approaching Trunks, Black could spot his favored weapon, a simple sword, hovering above his head for a swipe and with the same ease of movement he birthed the bullet wave with, easily side-stepped the attack.

The bright glow burst from the weapon, unleashing a wave of pure energy as the sword cut into the ground, leaving a crater dozens of feet deep and wide in its wake. His logical mind urged him to take Trunks by surprise, cut his head clean off his shoulders and end it once and for all. He momentarily gave into it, forming the beginnings of his energy blade to do just this... but even as he tried to force the limb into acting, it did nothing but twitch violently in place, unwilling to listen to him.

Zamasu realized a compromise would need to happen once again. If Trunks was to die today, it would be in a fashion far more interesting than this. After all, Trunks was no real threat to him, he could afford to play with him one last time

"Always you swing that blade around as though it was a hammer," Zamasu or Goku Black as he'd been named by Trunks and the other humans of Earth told the Super Saiyan as he realized the tiny distance between them and promptly leaping away. "No finesse, no respect or understanding behind the many intricacies necessary to properly wield it."

"A deranged psychopath like you doesn't get to talk of finesse," Trunks replied with that tried and true tone of self-righteousness, thinking himself of some savior. An annoying downside to prolonging their battle Zamasu regrettably forgot. "Not that it matters because I'm putting a stop to you, once and for all!"

Instead of cringing, Zamasu smiled, completing his energy blade. Putting his left arm behind his back, he flourished his sword in the air with precise movements, ultimately resting it into a low guard position at the right side of his legs.

"How many times have I heard that before," Zamasu grinned at him, enjoying the deepening of Trunks' scowl. The half-Saiyan spread his feet evenly and took hold of his blade with a reverse grip and unleashing the deep roar of a beast dozens of times his actual size took to the air. With a wide swing, the air and earth cracked in half, dissipating the last remnants of the smoke bomb cloud but Trunks, predictably, failed to hit his mark.

Zamasu leaped into the air and purposefully landed on Trunks' back, lingering there just enough for the half-Saiyan to roar again and spin around for another blow only for another well-timed, easy leap from his opponent robbed him of scoring a hit. A jab was his next response one Zamasu met with a delayed parry and side step to purposefully let Trunks' poor footwork almost send him crashing face first into the dirt.

As if suddenly losing a whole leg, the half-Saiyan clumsily tried to rebalance himself against the cracked ground, a sight Zamasu found most amusing until Trunks snapped back into something resembling a proper stance and continued his assault of broad, sweeping attacks meant to maximize damage and range. A simple strategy, surely even an effective one against anyone else, but against some his better in every conceivable way?

And so their clash of blades went, Trunks swinging his sword this way and that, carving more of the city to pieces every time his attacked was parried or outright avoided by Zamasu's controlled and precise blade work. If Trunks was the raging bull putting all of its power behind every charge, Zamasu was the matador, expertly and calmly responding to whatever was thrown at him. Delivering more small cuts all along Trunks' body, near the veins spread throughout it, to the tendons keeping his muscles together, slowly wearing him down and truly showing yet another vast chasm in skill between the two of them.

A fact Trunks clearly became aware of when in an effort to block a jab left himself wide open to another blow. Raising his shield to the front of his face, he failed to notice that Zamasu purposefully dematerialized the sword away, jabbing at Trunks' blade with the tips of his fingers before swiftly pulling his entire hand back, bringing out the blade again and running it through Trunks' side. Biting back a bloody cough, Trunks dropped any pretense of swordplay and headbutted Zamasu before kicking him away to the chest.

Usually, Trunks' attacks regardless if they were physical or energy based, had little to no effect on Zamasu, but as he skidded away and chuckled at Trunks' little display of defiance, he felt something burn inside his chest, something faintly like pain. The undeniable Saiyan urge for battle rooted inside Goku's body burned brighter than ever at this prospect, at the possibility of Trunks getting stronger from their numerous encounters and possibly becoming a worthwhile opponent to fight at last.

Deciding to test this theory out, Zamasu discarded his energy blade and rushed Trunks, blasting the surprised Super Saiyan's sword out of his hands and forcing him into hand to hand battle. Whatever involuntary surprise made him hesitate quickly vanished as the two began a rapid exchange of punches and kicks, first on the ground then darting across the sky, vanish from each other's lines of sight before reappearing to attack one another again.

Whatever curiosity Trunks piqued beforehand seemed more and more like a fluke, despite his blows, the one's that managed to connect, only marginally stronger than before, Zamasu held the advantage. For every blow Trunks delivered to him, Zamasu returned with several of his own, each one bruising or cutting or breaking something in the Saiyan's body. Too small a consolation for what could have been.

Feeling a particularly strong sense of loathing for Trunks at fooling him like this, Zamasu decided to definitively make him pay for it and brought the Super Saiyan down to his knees with an uppercut aimed at his stomach. With a nauseating release of barely digested food, Trunks fell to his knees, coughing away and clinging to his pained body in a pointless effort to ease it.

"What a disgraceful sight for the last of a powerful, warrior race," Zamasu brought forth his energy blade once again and placed it mere inches away from Trunks' neck, tangling his free hand through his enemies purple hair and forcing his head back up. "The power of which you so poorly-"

A sudden flare of intense pain exploded from inside Zamasu's chest, forcing a torrent of blood to come rushing into the back of his throat. An unforeseen distraction Trunks quickly made use of by headbutting him and managing to free himself of Zamasu's hold. The pain, though nowhere near as intense as the initial feeling, left Zamasu suddenly weary and gasping for hair.

Before he could kill Trunks or discover the cause of it, the half-Saiyan smirked at him and from one of his pockets brought out another smoke grenade, tossing it at Zamasu. With his interest in any further development of Trunks or his use in advancing Zamasu's own, he tried to telekinetically force the container back when it suddenly exploded, releasing a sickly, green smoke from within.

When the odor within entered his nostrils, Zamasu had to muster all the willpower inside himself to stop from dropping dead on the spot.

The stench, like one of a thousand unwashed humans, rotting corpses, gallons of vomit, burning flesh and hundreds of other unpleasing scents all mixed into one hurt his new body more profoundly than anything else up until that point. It would have brought him to his knees before, but inside of Goku's body, one with a far more honed sense of smell, the effect was almost paralyzing. Like a drunken fool, he wobbled on his feet, barely staying on them as the pain in his chest grew with his anxiety.

Trunks, clearly planning this, wasted no time in taking advantage of Zamasu's weakened state. As he blasted off towards him, ignoring the myriad of injuries covering his flesh, he underwent a transformation unlike any the dazed Kai had seen before. His golden hair spiked into dozens of directions and his muscles grew to almost comically absurd sizes, ripping away his jacket in the process.

When the Super Saiyan brought smashed both of his absurdly muscular palms against each one of Zamasu's ears, the joint blows caused a horrid buzzing noise to reverberate inside Zamasu's skull, throwing him further off balance and leaving him more at the mercy of his hated enemy. When Trunks' fist made contact this time around, the pain was most certainly felt.

Whereas before his blows registered barely above the bullets and rockets employed by his human allies, Trunks' vastly amplified physical form, whatever other else it cost him as a trade off, was used to its fullest effect. Greatly aided by Zamasu's completely overwhelmed state of mind. With each blow, he could feel his muscles tremble, his bones creak and skin cry out in pain.

None of it, however, could match the perpetually rising pain of his chest, now always at the same level as the initial spike and only getting stronger from the external assaults on Zamasu. Even with the dying out of the buzzing noise cracking his skull in half or the stench fading away, the chest pain kept him a suitably open target for Trunks and his onslaught of attacks.

Just when it seemed it would have no end, Zamasu was awarded a brief reprieve when Trunks' power seemingly backfired on him. For whatever reason, be it energy drain or forcing his body into such an unnatural state in his condition, the drawbacks became clearer. Trunks' body suddenly shrank back to his regular size and the golden power of the Super Saiyan abandoned him, leaving him lying in the dirt, scowling and clawing towards Zamasu but unable to reach him.

Knowing that this was a golden opportunity to quickly turn the tide back into his favor, Zamasu forced himself through multi-layered agony, delivering a swift kick to Trunks' face. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Trunks' own sword lying in the rubble and with a satisfied grin gracing his bloody lips, managed to meekly summon it to his side via telekinetic manipulation.

Another sharp pain spike erupted as he tried to get back to his feet, almost sending him crashing back down. But once more, Zamasu managed to will himself upward, perpetually clenching his chest as he used Trunks' sword as a makeshift walking stick. The owner of the blade continued to eye him with disdainful defiance but plainly in even worse condition than Zamasu himself. A slight bit of irony that brought immense joy to the Kai.

"A bright side to these setbacks..." Zamasu panted out, still grinning at Trunks as he tried thrice to get the sword off the ground, giving up momentarily to try and quell the sharpening of the pain until eventually succeeding at his fourth try. The blade hovered above his head, held by shaking hands barely able to keep it aloft. "I get the pleasure of killing you with your own sword!".

The sound of a cocking gun momentarily sounded in Zamasu's barely recovered ears before it went off. Instead of simply feeling the infant flies sting of a bullet, Zamasu gasped for air through bloody lips when a sharp, burning sensation exploded from all over his back. Losing what strength he had left to keep standing, Trunks' sword slipped from his fingers while his limp fell forward.

As he laid there, gasping for air and fruitlessly trying to force his body to listen, Zamasu coughed more and more blood, the pain in his chest made considerably worse by whatever just blast apart his spine. The thumping of boots against rock came from his side and with a keen interest, he followed the sound until he laid eyes upon the perpetrator of robbing him the satisfaction of killing Trunks.

"Y-you..." He managed to say, the meekness of his voice shocking him almost as much as how horribly everything this day had gone.

The woman, Mai as she was called by Trunks, merely glared at him, her rifle constantly trained on his face while she diligently walked over to Trunks' side. "I should've known you'd overdo it."

Despite looking no better than Zamasu, Trunks smiled at her whilst she took his arm and placed it over her shoulders. "I knew you'd save me."

For a moment, her gaze left Zamasu and she smiled back before turning her full attention back to the wounded Kai lying on the ground in front of them. Trunks joined her in the silent glaring, using his sword for standing support.

Past all the pain he felt, all the confusion and the hatred for both of them and all they are and all they represent, it was the confusion that felt most powerful in Zamasu as he glared back at them. Grinding his teeth together, he choked down the blood and saliva and demanded answers.

"How..." He managed to blurt out with great strain, sending himself into another coughing fit. "How... have you..."

"Your body," Trunks raspily told him with an infuriating undertone of satisfaction clear in his weary voice. "Mom managed to figure out that you were really Goku, at least, genetically speaking from a strand of your hair I took from our last fight."

"And Goku," Mai continued. "Died years ago from an airborne disease that ravaged the planet just ahead of the Androids, a disease Bulma managed to cure years ago by studying samples of it."

Zamasu ground his teeth together, ignoring the effect the agitation put on his apparently poisoned heart as he tried to make sense of all this. He initially assumed thought the method of delivery was Trunks' stink bomb but that made little sense, the first spike of pain exploded well ahead of that nasty surprise. The only other time they could have infected him was...

"The... escape... bombs..." Zamasu concluded through a series of coughs, feeling the quickening of Goku's diseased heart inside his chest and the multiplication of the pain along with it. He tried to claw towards them, hoping to find one last rush of strength left in this cursed Saiyan body to let him take both of them down with him. But the damage was done, and all Zamasu's efforts did wore him out even faster, letting hasten his inevitable demise.

"That's right," Mai cocked her gun a few inches closer. "We knew you'd just stand there and let us try that again and you didn't disappoint."

"You... arrogant..." Fresh blood sprung itself into his throat, cutting him off, not that the sentiment was lost on either of them.

"You're the only arrogant one here," Trunks bit back, that tedious self-righteousness of his back in full force. "You tried to wipe us all out, destroyed our homes and enjoyed all of it and then you underestimated us! You thought you beat us before the fighting even started, that's why you toyed me with, toyed with all of us because you thought we'd never be able to hurt you. And now you're paying for all of it."

Zamasu never thought he could hate a human quite as he did Goku, even while acknowledging the virtues of possessing his strength. How such a simpleton could wield power surpassing most of the Gods and rivaling the highest one's and did nothing with it but the pursuit of his selfish desires for combat. When he lost to him upon arriving to Earth to see how true the footage of the tournament was, Zamasu knew he was right to hate him and the rest of his ilk.

But these two? This pair of scheming, arrogant who humans who looked down on him, thinking themselves superior for defeating him, for having the gall to lecture him on who was right or wrong in this conflict when the real answer was obvious. He was certain he despised them even above Goku, a considerable feat as Zamasu cursed him as well. Cursed him for his vulnerable, deficient body which, for all the power it had, could be felled but lowly, mortal tricks. He even hated his other self for not being here to help him, wasting time with the failed pursuit of the Yardratians and for not pushing him to sternly into taking immortality as well when they had the chance.

"It's over Black," Trunks continued as Zamasu's raged into a typhoon of loathing of everything and everyone around him, past and present while his body lost the last vestiges of life. "I don't know if you really are Goku or someone using him, if you are, I want whatever's left of Goku to know I'm sorry for doing this and I hope he finds some peace in the afterlife with everyone else."

"And if you **are** someone using him," Mai pressed the barrel of her rifle against Zamasu's face, matching her glare with his. "I hope you get everything you deserve on the other side."

"A fate far less deserved and a thousand times more lenient than what the two of you and the rest of you should suffe-"

With the sound of clicking metal and the flash of bright light, the justice of one Zamasu was permanently ended.


End file.
